The Birth of a King
by idrylla
Summary: Thorin is born among battle and storm. If his parents knew this was a foretelling of his life, they would cry, but for now, all they see is the tiny miracle that would grow to be a king.


**I once saw an interview with Richard Armitage and he told of a scene he filmed with Thorin and Bilbo, but never made it into the final edit. Thorin tells the story of how he was born in a cave with fireflies over his head and how already Thorin's life was set out before him. I wondered how this story might have gone, but I also wondered why in the world his mother was outside of Erebor and in a cave when her son, the prince, was born? This is my take on the story of Thorin's birth. It's not gory or graphic, but it is a birth story, so be ye warned.**

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><p>Prince Thrain and his wife, Princess Freja, had spent several years in the Iron Hills, visiting her family and doing important diplomatic and trade negotiations at the orders of King Thror, of Erebor.<p>

There was great rejoicing among the dwarves of the Iron Hills when the prince and announced that the princess was with child. Thrain insisted that the future king of the Lonely Mountain needed to be born in Erebor, with the stone of his birthright beneath him. However, due to weather and ongoing obligations, they were not able to travel back until the summertime. Thrain had been very concerned for his wife and child, but the child was not due until the end of the summer, and Freja was strong. The midwife said that Freja could travel, as long as she was able to remain comfortable during the journey. Thrain had seen to her every need and comfort.

She had a sturdy carriage to ride in, with comfortable cushions for her to rest upon. A strong guard of the Iron Hill's best soldiers was accompanying them. Thrain, with his great Warhammer, rode beside the carriage, and Freja and the midwife had no small skill when it came to wielding an axe. They were as safe as could be planned for. They would make it home with plenty of time to spare and the heir of Erebor would be born in the protection of the great mountain.

But even the best laid plans cannot plan for everything. They were two days away from Erebor's gates, but they were now currently on the north side of the Lonely Mountain. The sun was hot and bright and the air was completely still. Freja fanned herself in the carriage.

"If only there were a breeze," she said. The growing child in her belly provided her with an extra furnace full of heat and in the summer air. She was quite miserable.

The midwife waved her fan at Freja's face. It would not be good for the princess to get too hot. "Let me know if you are too uncomfortable, my Lady."

Freja laughed. "Please. I'm in my last quarter. It doesn't matter how hot or cold I am, I'm uncomfortable all the time."

The midwife smiled. She had born four dwarflings of her own, back in the day, and understood all too well what those last two months were like. The carriage rolled along.

Some loud noises in the distance startled the two dams from their attempts to be cooler. A horn was sounded and Freja could hear the draw of swords from scabbards.

"What is going on?" she wondered with some nervousness. The midwife shrugged her shoulders.

If they were being attacked, it would be very unwise for them to show themselves by poking their heads out of the carriage's windows, so they sat, perfectly still and quiet. The sounds of shouting and metal clashing against metal suddenly began. They were under attack.

The dams pulled out their own axes from under their seats, ready for anything. Freja could hear Thrain shouting, in Khuzdul to protect the princess. The battle outside was very close to them now. The carriage rocked back and forth as the ponies pulling the carriage, moved about in their nervousness. Suddenly, the ponies let out loud whinnying cries and the carriage was violently pushed backwards. Freja fell off her cushion onto the carriage floor. She still held her axe. A bright flash lit up the world around them and nearly immediately later, a loud crack of thunder boomed over the land. The ponies reared up and bolted. The carriage jolted forward and Freja felt her back jar against the side of the carriage. She could hear shouting and for several terrifying moments, she couldn't move from the pain in her back.

All at once, the carriage hit a large rock. It was thrown into the air, before falling hard and landing sideways onto the rocky ground. Freja landed on her stomach and yelled in pain. She curled around herself and breathed deeply for a moment. The carriage had landed on its doors. They were trapped inside, but it also meant, no enemy could get in. Not yet, anyway.

"My lady!" the midwife grabbed for the princess. "Are you hurt? Broken bones?"

Freja took a moment to feel for any pain in her body beyond her stomach. Her head was sore and so was one arm, but nothing seemed to be broken.

"I landed on the baby. My stomach hurts and I believe I twisted one of my arms," Freja said through clenched teeth.

Another crack of thunder sounded over the din of the battle. Rain started to pour into the carriage through the small windows.

The midwife could feel a warm trickle of liquid down the side of her face. With a quick swipe of her hand, she felt the cut alongside her cheek. It stung, but it didn't seem deep or threatening. She would worry about it later. "We've got to get you out of here," the midwife said to the princess.

Freja nodded. The pain in her stomach would not subside. She feared for her child.

The midwife stood on the seat and carefully poked her head out of the window. Immediately, she was drenched by the rain. She could make out the battle around her. The carriage had moved a ways away from the fight. She could make out what looked like a cave on the side of the mountain. It wasn't too far. If they moved quickly, the might be able to make it there before the enemy realized the fate of the carriage. It was the best chance at keeping the princess safe.

"There's a cave, not too far away," said the midwife as climbed back down into the carriage. The princess did not look well. A bruise was forming on her face. She cradled her stomach with one arm and the other sat limply at her side. She was taking deep breaths. The midwife laid her hands on her stomach and felt the hardness of the muscle. It was too hard, like it was having a contraction. "Do you think you can walk?"

Freja set her jaw, looked the midwife in the eye and nodded. "I can."

The midwife looked around her. She tore the coverings off the cushions and tied them to her, like a cape. She felt in her pockets. Her two knives were still tucked away. The sack of medical supplies she carried about with her everywhere was lying in a corner of the carriage. She picked it up and swung it over her shoulder. Then, she picked up her axe.

"Cover your face with a cushion, my Lady," the midwife said. When Freja's face was covered and protected, the midwife started hacking at the floor of the carriage, which now faced sideways, toward the mountain. She quickly put a large hole in the floor and climbed out. The storm blew wild around them. "Come, my Lady."

Freja moved to the hole and started to climb out. She still held her axe and a cushion which cradled against her stomach with her uninjured arm. The midwife started too pulled on Freja, to get her moving in the right direction, but the princess doubled over in pain. She took deep breaths and let out a moan. When the moment had passed, they started moving.

There was no doubt now, the midwife thought, the Princess was in labor. They were surrounded by a battle, a storm was howling around them and it was two months too early for the baby. This was not an ideal situation at all. She said a silent plea to Mahal to help her and the princess now. They moved as quickly as they could and they hoped not to be spotted, but they were not having any such luck. The midwife heard a shout and she swung around to see a tall man running at her with a sword.

She took her stance, her axe in hand, and met the man in his charge. She was smaller than him, by nearly half, but she was a dwarf and dwarves are strong, like rock. He was thrown back, but he was back on his feet immediately. She swung at him, her axe connecting with his chest and he fell. She turned to see how the princess was fairing and was horrified to see the princess swinging her own axe at another attacker. The princess's strike was true and the man's head fell from his body. There were no others that they could see.

Freja was breathing hard and in great pain, but the attack had sent her adrenaline pumping and she had the strength to run for the mountain. The midwife ran behind her and soon they reached the cave's entrance.

"Let me go in first," the midwife said, holding her axe up. She found a den of foxes, and quickly chased them out. There didn't seem to be any other life in the cave. It was small, but tall enough for them to be able to sit on the floor with plenty of room over their heads. And it was wide enough for them to sit side-by-side. She untied the cape from her neck and spread out the blankets, dry side up. Well, as dry as it could be. Then she reached out to the princess and helped her in.

Freja let out a cry of pain and hunched over her stomach. Tears formed in her eyes. "It's too early," she panted. "It's too early!"

"We'll do everything we can for him, won't we?" the midwife used a soft, soothing voice and patted at the princess's hair. She pulled Freja's long black hair back and tied it into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. "Try and relax while I get a fire going." She helped the princess to move towards the back of the cave and then up against the side of the wall. Using the cushion that the princess had brought, she leaned Freja back against the wall to rest. As close to the entrance as she could, without it being exposed to the rain pouring in from the wicked summer storm, the midwife stuck some flints she kept in her medical bag and lit the foxes' nest on fire. There wasn't much to fuel the fire with but she gathered every flammable thing she could find in the cave. Balls of ice started to fall from the sky. They made loud crunching noises as they hit the rocky ground. Several bounced into the cave, but were quickly melted by the fire.

A little bit of warmth spread through the cave. The midwife shucked off her outer coat, so she was more dry and freer to help the princess. Then she went to Freja.

Freja was in the middle of a contraction and breathing heavily. She had her injured arm cradled gently against her breast. The midwife pushed up Freja's skirts and pulled off her undergarments. She checked the baby's position. It had already moved down into the birth canal. It was determined to make a quick entry into the world.

The storm continued to howl around them, with thunder booming and echoing inside the small cave. There was nothing the midwife could do, but wait. She kept a close watch over the entrance, making sure no attackers or animals came close to the cave's mouth. The princess groaned. Checking the outside one last time, and seeing no threats, the midwife crawled back to the princess.

"Can you kneel? Get up on your knees. It will help move the baby more quickly down in place where he should be," she pulled at the princess's shoulders.

"But it's too early," Freja gasped. The pain was overwhelming and constant now. There were almost no breaks in between the contractions.

"It doesn't matter now," the midwife said sadly, "the baby is coming. We make this as easy for the baby as possible. If there is less trauma in his birth, he will have a better chance to survive."

Freja let out a pained yell and gripped the midwife's shoulders hard. The midwife heaved the princess up and onto her knees. "Deep breaths, my Lady." Freja rested her head on the midwife's shoulder. The midwife took the opportunity to feel Freja's injured arm. There was nothing broken, so far as she could tell. At least that was something. Freja groaned and panted. Then she started to push.

"Wait, my Lady," the midwife said. She worked at the princesses skirts, untying them and pulling them away from her. There were too many layers of fabric and no way to get them off, so she pulled out her knife and carefully cut through most of the layers of skirts, leaving the most underneath petticoat whole. This she pushed up and tucked into the bodice of Freja's clothes. She felt for the baby and could feel its head, just starting to crown.

"Next time you feel a contraction, bear down as hard as you can. Your baby will be here very soon," the midwife said. She did not worry for the princess, she was strong and since this had been such a short, fast labor, much of her strength had not yet been used. She knew Freja was tired and in pain, yes, but she still had plenty of strength. It was the baby that worried her. There was a very good chance the child would not survive this quick labor, induced by trauma to its warm home.

While the storm raged outside, a strange quiet settled inside the cave. Everything that was outside, the storm and the battle, was forgotten. What was going on in the small cave was all that mattered in the world at that moment. The midwife felt, as she had never felt before, a presence there. It was as calming as it was strong. It gave both dams the strength needed to bring the babe into the world. Freja pushed against the pain and the pressure, her hands gripping at the midwife's shoulders. The midwife's hand felt the baby as it slowly moved downward, making its way into the world. Finally, with one final heaving push, the babe slid out of its mother's body and was caught deftly into the midwife's waiting, gentle hands.

Freja sat back on her haunches and panted. The presence that had been there with them just moments ago was gone, but it mattered not anymore, for a pink baby boy took in its first deep breath and let out a wail.

"A son, my Lady," the midwife shouted with joy. She quickly wrapped the baby in one of the princesses discarded skirts. She handed the baby to its mother and then helped Freja to sit back against the cushions.

Freja stared at the little face for several moments, coming to grips with the reality of the beautiful child in her arms. He was alive and strong.

"My brave little dwarrow," Freja cooed over the child. She pulled him close to her chest and rested her cheek on the top of his head, which was covered in dark black hair, like hers. "My brave, bold little child. You should be called Thorin."

The midwife cut the cord that had connected the baby to his mother for the last ten months. He was going to be alright. He was strong, like his mother and father.

The midwife noticed that the storm was dying. The sounds of the thunder had all but stopped and now, and when they heard it, the thunder was far off in the distance. She tossed some of the sticks she had found in the cave onto the fire, building it up to give more heat. There were no more sounds of battle either and a gentle peace settled over them. The air wasn't so thick, hot and humid anymore. Now it was pleasantly warm and refreshing.

The little baby opened his eyes for the first time. Only he noticed what was at the top of the ceiling of their cave – fireflies. The little flying lights that glittered like gold and his infant's eyes watched the swirling, flickering movement. For a little while, there was peace. Freja easily delivered the afterbirth and the midwife did all she could to make the new mother comfortable. They could hear some noise outside the cave. Someone was drawing near. The midwife picked up her axe and Freja took out a long knife. They would protect the newborn prince to the death.

"Freja! Freja!" a strong voice boomed.

"Thrain!" Freja called back.

The midwife watched to make sure it was truly the prince who approached and was relieved to see that it was. Four warrior guards were at his back.

"In here, you majesty!" the midwife called.

Thrain dropped his Warhammer and crawled past the fire and into the small cave. He was shocked by what greeted him.

"My darling, we have a son. He is Thorin, son of Thrain, Prince of Erebor," Freja introduced the father to his son.

"Thorin?" Thrain asked. They had discussed names before, but Thorin had never been one of them.

"Aye, Thorin," Freja caressed the baby's head. "He was a bold one, to come into the world so early and in the midst of battle and storm."

"He is well named then," Thrain sat alongside his wife and looked at the child's face.

Freja passed the baby to his father to hold. The pain in her arm returned after the euphoria of holding her son for the first time passed. She groaned.

"Are you hurt?" Thrain looked at her with concern.

"My arm was injured."

The midwife took one of the princess's skirts and folded it into a large triangle. She bound Freja's arm as best as she could. With the midwife's help, Freja pulled the baby to her breast and fed him his first meal. Thrain moved the mouth of the cave and instructed two of the guards to ride as quickly as they could for Erebor and to return with a carriage and strong escorts. The other two guards, he sent back to the battle field to try and collect any supplies that they had left. It could easily be three or four days before help would arrive and they needed to make sure Freja would be well cared for and fed so she could care for the little prince.

Thrain sat at the cave's mouth and kept an eye out for danger and aide. If Freja could have known at that moment that the future of Thorin's life could have been told by the elements that made up their current circumstance, she might have cried, but she was ignorant to her son's future, so she smiled, cooed and hummed lullabies to him.

But for Thorin, his life, not yet an hour long, was set. The claustrophobia of the tiny, oppressive cave, the golden light that swirled above him, the weight of Erebor, already on his tiny shoulders. His father sat there, making plans for Thorin's future – his tutors, his trainers, the lessons he was to study, the weapons he was to master, the craft he would learn. Thorin would sit by his side, as he sat by his father's and he would teach him the ways of being a prince.

His mother held him, thinking of how they would present him to his people at the formal birth announcement. The ceremonies that he would be a part of for his naming, his first training fight, the crowning for his official title, and someday there would be a wedding and grandchildren of her own. She couldn't wait for him to grow so he could learn the splendors metal and minerals. He would learn about stone. He would learn diplomacy. He would learn languages and etiquette. Oh what a wonderful future she had all planned out for this child.

The midwife thought of something very different for this child. At the time of his birth, there had been a remarkable presence with them. There had been more than the laboring mother and the patient midwife. There had been someone else and she felt quite sure it had been Mahal himself, come to help this child into the world. This little baby, this prince, was more than just a future king. There was something very powerful and special about this child. He had a great destiny. And the midwife couldn't help but wonder, what destiny awaited this child that was so important that their creator had to get involved to make sure he survived his birth? Was it a fair destiny or did hardships loom in his future? He was of the line of Durin. They had never had it easy. She shed a tear for the child, for she feared his life would be one of difficulty and she pleaded once again to Mahal that he would remain with this chosen child and always give him the strength to endure whatever fate he was destined for.


End file.
